


Homecoming

by TheLoneMeme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Ronan is very soft, also he misses adam A Lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoneMeme/pseuds/TheLoneMeme
Summary: Adam stays with Ronan over his breaks from Yale. The Barns in too big for just one impossible creature.Soft!Ronan is my favorite thing. Let this poor boy have his farm and his strong coffee.





	

Ronan woke to a frigid room, the tip of his nose cold, his hands fisted in his blankets. He swallowed hard, lump in his throat catching as he forced his body from the warmth of his bed. It never felt right anymore, the comfort he found there. It made his chest ache to look around the room that was once so intimately familiar. Shuffling across the room, he closed the window, softly cursing himself for being unable to sleep with it closed, even with fresh snow on the ground. In spite of the late-winter chill, Ronan had yet to leave behind the habit formed in May of the previous spring.  
The stairs creaked under his feet as he made his way to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, feeling smaller than he should have. The room, barren during his highschool years, now looked warm, lived in. Opal’s drawings, although gruesome, covered the front of the well-worn fridge. Ronan felt himself smile at the art that took up what little space Opal’s didn’t.  
Blue and Noah had made him a tarot deck for christmas, all smudged ink and scribbles, and they had given him the rough sketches as well. Noah’s favorite card, Death, looked up at him expectantly from beside the door handle. Mathew had drawn flowers using the neon crayons Ronan had dreamed for Opal, claiming, “This fridge needs color, Mac-A-Ronan, it’s messing with the kitchen’s feng shui.” Ronan had glared, but the picture stayed. In Gansey’s familiar handwriting was a note, demanding Ronan return his favorite pen, dated March 2012.  
Ronan shook his head, opening the fridge to get cream for his too-sweet coffee. A square of paper, folded to the size of his palm and held shut by the magnet that held it to the fridge, caught his eye. He smiled and turned to start a pot of coffee, remembering Adam placing it there, refusing the show Ronan what was inside.  
*  
“Ronan, seriously.” Adam sighed, pulling his hand behind his back, slip of paper held between two fingers. “You know I appreciate you letting me stay here over christmas break, but that doesn’t give you the right to demand to be involved in everything I do while I’m here.”  
Ronan smiled, Adam’s teasing tone softening his edges, making him feel warm and blurred.  
“Not demanding. Asking. Nicely.” Ronan stated. Adam quirked a brow, holding up the paper.  
“Just because you could theoretically place a question mark after a statement doesn’t make it a polite request, Lynch. I told you, you can open this when I come back for spring break. It’s two months, you’ll live.”  
*  
The coffee pot gurgled, and Ronan jumped. His phone dinged, a pre-set notification. The text of the screen read, “Shithead’s Homecoming”, and he smiled. He had set the notification in his phone almost as soon as he had seen Adam’s Yale acceptance letter. He had just had to google the academic calendar.  
As soon as his phone has back in his pocket, it went off again. Adam’s face, distorted by some ugly snapchat filter, flashed across his screen. He grabbed a biscuit from the tupperware container by the coffee pot, and answered the call.  
“Fuck you want, Parrish?” He asked around a mouthful.  
“Dude. I’m on my way to see you. Taking the bus, if you remember correctly, and that's all the love I get when I call to let your worrywart, elderly man ass know that I’m not dead? Great. Guess I should just catch the next bus back to the dorms, since clearly the mighty Ronan Lynch is just too good for this lowly ‘Parrish’ creature who dares to disrupt his-what are you even eating? Sad, dry, leftover biscuits? Lynch, we talked about this. Butter, it's a gift.” Adam rambled, phone shuffling as he walked.  
Ronan grinned, feeling stupid. Parrish, now twenty, broad in the shoulders, and oddly muscular for a college sophomore, always made Ronan inexplicably nervous. God.  
Ronan opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Adam.  
“And if you ask me, ‘is butter a carb?’ I’m honest to god going to turn around and go back to campus.”  
Ronan bit his knuckle to keep from laughing, feeling stupid and giddy. He found himself suddenly incredibly grateful that Opal had begged her way into Gansey, Blue, and Henry’s backyard camping weekend. She did not, under any circumstances, need to see her father-figure reduced to stifling giggles by Adam’s oddly intimate knowledge of Ronan’s taste in movies.  
“I was going to ask when your bus got in, but since you’ve decided to be a little shit, you can walk your scrawny ass out here for all I fucking care.” Ronan replied, again around a mouthful of food.  
The laugh in Adam’s voice was evident, if muffled by the noise of his bus boarding. There was a pause as Adam found his seat, and Ronan, feeling like a pathetic puppy, listened to the almost-laugh Adam was hiding.  
“I would totally believe that threat if you hadn’t required updates on my trip every half hour last time I was on break.”  
“It’s not my fucking fault that you told me about the dude wearing a chicken feather hat who sat next to you last time. Either way, text me later so I know when to come pick up your sorry ass.”  
“My ass has been a lot of things in this conversation Lynch. But, sure, my sad, scrawny ass will update you on my whereabouts in an hour.”  
“Your ass has been a pain, too, Parrish. Later shithead.” With that, Ronan ended the call, a sad, sorry brush crawling up his sad, sorry neck. Fucking Parrish.


End file.
